A Gentle Touch
by Evening Starbossa
Summary: A little girl puts Erik's outlook on his face into a new perspective.


**A/N: This story parallels Chapter One of "The Dancer Within". That first chapter was originally meant to be a one-shot, and it turned into a multi-chapter story. This story was originally meant to be a multi-chapter story, but I decided to leave it as a one-shot. If any of you have ideas for other chapters to this as far as what this encounter might mean for the movie events, please let me know. As always, I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters.**

** I was twenty-four ** when we first met. By now, my face had outgrown my current mask, and so I began the process of making a new one…or at least, a plaster mold. While it was drying, I played my violin down by the lake's edge. As the music filled me and left me, I found my gaze lowering to my reflection in the water. I scowled and sighed. This was my life, my future. I put more volume into my playing, as if I could scare my face away instead of it being in control.

But then a new reflection appeared behind me—the reflection of five-year-old Marguerite Giry. I had scoffed when Antoinette told me that name—so long for such a little girl. And so I had always called her Little Giry in my mind.

Only her reflection was here—_she_ was here—and my face was bare… In a split second, I set my violin down and raised my hand to the right side of my face, whirling around to face her. "Little Giry…what are you doing here?" Any anger I would have felt toward any other intruder melted then as she looked up at me with big brown eyes, and I found myself instead concerned.

"I was exploring." She did not sound afraid. Perhaps she had not seen.

"That is very dangerous. Where is your mother?"

"Upstairs." _Did this girl _ever_ blink?_ I sighed.

"Then let us get you back to her. She's probably worried." I reached down with my left hand to take hers, but she reached up with her left hand toward my right. I touched her right hand gently, but she kept reaching persistently.

"I want to see."

"Why?"

"Please?" Still, she had not blinked, and so I did extra blinking for her. In a state of utter shock, I found myself kneeling down to her level, allowing her to move my hand aside. Slowly, she touched my deformity, her fingers tracing each wrinkle and bump. "How did you get it?"

"I…don't know. I've always had it." I swallowed back the lump in my throat, every ounce of my energy being used to fight back my tears. Her fingers kept wandering, and I was frozen. After what seemed like the longest time, she gently brushed her lips against my cheek, pulling back and smiling.

"I like it."

"Y—you do?" At this, she nodded.

"It's different. I like different."

"Why?" _And furthermore, why am I acting the curious child and she the adult?_

"Because if everyone looked the same, I wouldn't recognize anyone." At this I managed to let out a small laugh.

"You would still be able to recognize me, Little Giry, if my right cheek matched my left."

"But I wouldn't like it."

"You wouldn't?" Her response was to shake her head. "Why?"

"My doll."

"Y—what about it?"

"_Her_."

"Very well, what about her?"

"She's missing an eye and her dress is torn, and she smells funny. But I don't want a new one."

"Oh?"

"Uh uh. A new doll would be nicer-looking and prettier-smelling, but she wouldn't be mine. My doll was with me when I was sick or scared, and I've told her all my secrets. I love her cause she doesn't make fun of me or walk away when I try to talk. She's not busy like Mama and she's always there when I need her. Why are you crying?" I immediately wiped at my tears, not realizing just how much I was sobbing.

"It…it's nothing, Little Giry. As it turns out, I have something like that." I slowly stood and made my way to my bedchamber, retrieving the monkey toy I had brought with me as I fled from the fair. I turned around to return to her, but she was right behind me. _Curse those ballerinas being light on their feet!_ I slowly knelt down next to her and handed my monkey to her.

"What's his name?"

"He doesn't have one."

"He's gotta have a name! My doll's name is Suzanne."

"Well, what would you name him?"

"Nuh uh. You have to name him or he's not yours."

"Very well…how about…Maestro?" At that, she grinned.

"I like it." She handed him back, and I set him down on the bed. "That's why I like your face, Monsieur. It shows how much you were loved. Suzanne is all worn out and disfigured cause I love her so much…maybe God loves you so much that He held you a little longer." Without skipping a beat, she scurried back to the lake and picked up my violin. Placing it in my hands, she climbed onto my lap. "Can you play some more?"

"Very well…one song, and then I'll bring you upstairs."

"Okay…" She snuggled closer, and I swallowed another lump before playing once again.

**A/N: As always, feedback is more than welcome! Thanks!**


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